


Can't Sleep

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [37]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sad with a Happy Ending, nothing is super explicit, race just has it pretty rough sometimes bruh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Spot wakes up one morning and Race isn't there





	Can't Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> jfbdvs i am out here Not Having A Great Time so heres some fuckin uuhhhhhhh projection

Sometimes Race would do strange things without any sort of explanation. Like, every so often Spot would catch him pacing in their living room in the middle of the night when he thought Spot was asleep. Or he would sleep for an unhealthy amount of time for a full week, thirteen or fourteen hours a day if he didn’t have work. Sometimes he just stared at the wall or the ceiling without saying anything at all.

And over the years Spot had known Race, he’d gotten used to these things. Learned from rushed conversations with Jack and Crutchie that sometimes Race got a little out of it and needed some time to bounce back. 

Once, when Race had gotten drunker than Spot had ever seen him, a feat in and of itself, he’d told Spot that sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night with panic attacks that shook him from the inside out.

After a while, Spot learned to stop pressing and let Race take his time and do whatever he needed to do in order to bounce back. It was only once and a while that that kind of stuff happened anyway, and as long as Race wasn’t getting hurt, Spot could leave him be. Unfortunately right now that wasn’t really an option. 

Hanging up what had been his fifth consecutive call to Race, Spot cursed, getting up and pacing his track through the living room again. He needed to get a hold of Jack or Crutchie or Albert or  _ someone _ , or he was going to go insane. 

Shakily, he dialed Jack’s number, counting him as his best bet, and forced himself to sit down while the phone rang. 

_ “Hello?” _

“Jack,” Spot said quickly, “have you seen Race?”

Jack, who had sounded half awake when he first picked up, cleared his throat into the receiver and Spot could hear movement on the other end. _ “No, why? Is something wrong?” _

Spot cursed again and balled the hand that wasn’t holding the phone into a fist. “Yeah, I can’t find him. I guess he went for a walk or something last night while I was asleep and when I woke up he was gone.”

_ “He didn’t say anything? Or text you?” _

“There was a note on the counter that said ‘back soon’, but he isn’t picking up any of my calls or answering any texts.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end and Spot squeezed his eyes shut. “Jack, has he ever done something like this before? Because I’m really worried over here and-”

_ “Yeah he has, once or twice.” _

“What does that mean?” Spot snapped. He was sick of the weird shit Jack and Crutchie did when it came to Race, always brushing it off when Spot asked about him or got concerned. Like they knew better because they’d grown up with him. Well now no one knew where he was and none of that was going to help them. “Jack, he’s never done this with me before, you don’t even know if he’s  _ okay _ . He left in the middle of the night, anything could have happened-”

_ “Spot,” _ Jack cut off,  _ “I’m not saying to leave it alone, this happened once or twice before when Race was younger and it _ scared  _ us, okay? I know where you’re at right now.” _

Spot took a deep breath and nodded to the empty apartment. “Yeah okay, just, what should I do? I don’t want to leave the apartment in case he comes back, and I don’t even know where I would look if I went out to try and find him.”

_ “I think you should stay there and wait,” _ Jack said, and Spot heard the sound of keys jangling from the other end.  _ “I’m gonna go out and look a few places he used to go to as a kid, but there’s a good chance he’ll come back to you, alright?” _

“Okay, good,” Spot breathed. The idea of a plan had calmed his nerves a bit. “Just keep me updated, okay?”

_ “I will.” _

“And Jack?”

“ _ Yeah?” _

“Thank you.”

_ “Don’t mention it.” _

* * *

 

It was four in the morning now, and Spot hadn’t slept yet. He was still sitting on the couch where Jack had told him over the phone to wait, and the only movement he’d done that whole day was to get up and walk around the apartment when his mind started to get away from him. For the first time he got a little bit of why Race acted the way he did sometimes. 

But also not, because Jack hadn’t been able to find Race or get a hold of him in anyway. It was probably around 24 hours since he’d left, and Spot was losing it. He didn’t get how someone could just up and  _ leave  _ like that, couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

Laying back, he looked up at the ceiling and started remembering things about Race, things he’d let go before. 

There were a few times Race had told him about what his life was like before he could put in the foster home with Jack and Crutchie, usually when he was drunk. It was bad stuff, stuff that usually ended with Race crying and Spot gently cutting him off from drinking anymore that night. 

There were the times Race would go a day or more without eating and Spot had to sit with him and make sure he got down everything on the plate before eating himself. The times Race would come home after work, late and with a black eye and refuse to tell Spot where he got it. 

Those and a million other little things that Spot and everyone else had just brushed off and now Race was  _ gone _ . And not even Jack had sounded like he knew Race was going to be okay. 

After another half an hour or so, Spot felt his eyes starting to stay shut longer every time he blinked. He was just about to allow himself to rest his eyes for five minutes, he was even setting the alarm, when there was a click at the front door, and he shot up just as it was pushed open. 

“Hey Spot.”

Race was standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and sort of dazed, and was staring at Spot with something akin to guilt.

Spot was up and pulling him toward the couch before he knew really what he was doing, and his concern for Race overpowered the anger that had been bubbling inside of him all day for just a moment. 

“Where did you go? Are you okay?” Spot asked, eyes scanning Race for any sign of injury. He couldn’t find any, and thank god he didn’t look drunk or high either. No, the only defining feature were the dark bags under his eyes. “Race?”

Race stared at Spot for a second before blinking rapidly and looking down at the couch. There were tears pooling in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Spot.”

His voice cracked and Spot felt his stomach drop. Moving closer to him on the couch, he grabbed his hand and ducked his head down, trying to make eye contact. “Hey, hey, Race, it’s okay-”

Race shook his head and Spot could feel him trying to gain some composure before he spoke. 

“No, it’s uh, it’s not, really,” he said shakily, eyes slowly raising to meet Spot’s. “I know you called me and Jack called me and everyone was worried and  _ god _ , I just, I didn’t want any of this, I didn’t know what else to do-”

He started shaking his head again and Spot gently grabbed his chin and turned his head so that he was looking at Spot; the look in his eyes nearly broke him, but he couldn’t give into that right now. 

“Didn’t know what to do about what?” Spot asked softly. He was rubbing circles into the back of Race’s hand with the one that wasn’t on his face, and he felt it shaking underneath him.

Race took a deep breath and his whole body shook. “About anything, I guess.”

When Spot stayed silent, nodding encouragingly at Race, he continued, hand tightening around Spot’s own while he spoke.

“I just was trying to fall asleep last night and I couldn’t, I just kept thinking about stuff and it was moving so fast in my head and I wanted to move to get it out.”

Spot hummed softly and Race took another deep breath, Spot noticed his breathing was starting to even out. 

“And I went for a walk and I thought I was gonna come right back, but then I just kept walking and thinking about everything, just bad stuff, and I ended up just pacing around the park at night because all this shitty stuff was coming into my head and I couldn’t make it stop.”

He was tearing up again and Spot let out a soft, “It’s okay.”

Nodding, Race forced himself to look at Spot again. “And I know I should have called or came back and it was so shitty of me to leave like that, I know that, but I just didn’t want to put all of that shit on you, and Jack has already done so much for me, so I just kept walking around all day to try and calm myself down, but well-”

He looked down at himself and then back at Spot, shrugging weakly. “I’m just sorry, Spot.”

Spot was trying to process everything Race had just said, it was more information that he’d gotten out of Jack or Crutchie or the drunken Race in years, actually. But right now Race was sitting in front of him looking like he might break if Spot didn’t say something right then, so he picked up his other hand and pulled him into his chest. 

“It’s okay Race, you’re okay.”

He felt Race start to shudder, and held onto him tighter once he started crying. It was one of the only times Spot had ever seen Race cry, which was concerning by itself, so he let him get it out.

Humming softly, he rubbing small circles into Race’s back, feeling the back of his shirt being gripped in the way a little kid did when they were being held. It was heartbreaking. 

They stayed like that for awhile, about ten minutes or so before Race finally pulled back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and making disjointed eye contact with Spot. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, sniffling a bit as he played with the string on his hoodie. “I’m sorry.”

Spot grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. “It’s okay, it really is.”

Race nodded and yawned heavily. Glancing at the clock, Spot saw it was nearly five in the morning, and he pulled Race to his feet and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, guiding him to their bedroom. 

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Race nodded jerkily and followed Spot into the bed, curling into him as soon as Spot got underneath the covers. He was still gripping his hand tightly and Spot felt him bury his head into his shirt as well. 

“Goodnight, Spot.”

“Goodnight, Race,” Spot whispered back, watching as Race’s breathing evened out within seconds, and he fell asleep. He figured he was beat, and once he was passed out, Spot looked at the ceiling for a little while.

There was a lot left unsaid, a lot of things Spot had thought he’d wanted to say when he was angry and pacing around the apartment, checking his phone every two seconds waiting for some kind of update. Some of those things he probably wouldn’t say, and some of them he would some other time, when Race had gotten some sleep and brought himself back down. 

He also decided was done letting things go, and he’d tell that to Race in the morning. For now, he let him sleep, and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest until he could hear birds chirping outside. 

He’d stay awake until Race woke up himself, just watching, making sure he was still there. He didn’t want that doubt in his mind ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> hope yall enjoyed??? i dont write a lot of angst but i hope it didn't suck??
> 
> leave kudos/comments if yall want!!!


End file.
